Aristocrat (HP/SI)

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Saturday and Sunday flew by in a flash for Richard. Once again, under his mentor's watchful eye, he conjured to the point of exhaustion.When magic turns into training, as if for a professional athlete, it is no longer perceived as something magical. It seems that sorcery is hard work.

It was Monday, a day of rest from everything. Richie was going to lie on the couch and do nothing, at most - to go to the home cinema and watch a couple of "fresh" films.

A sudden knock on the door made the boy wake up.

- Mr Ritchie, Detective Potter is here to see you.

- John, damn it! - Richard groaned. - Give me ten seconds to crawl to my office and get him in here.

- Mr Ritchie, it is not proper for a noble man to use swear words, especially not such plebeian ones.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you, John.

Richard had only just entered his office when Scott Potter followed him in.

- You look like shit, kid! - he said in a jovial tone. - If I didn't know what family you were from, I'd assume you'd been unloading coal wagons at night.

- But you, sir, look great," Richard said ironically, turning to the man.

In fact, Scott looked a little wrinkled, with a blue black eye and a suit that looked like it had been chewed on by a cow.

- One and one! - Detective Potter grinned, sitting down unceremoniously in his chair. - You've given me quite a task....

Richard walked round the desk and took a seat in his chair. Resting his chin on his crossed arms, he asked curiously:

- Did the wizards give you a black eye?

- Yeah," the detective said. - I had to go to their devilish slums! I had to swing my fists and shoot a little. So I'd better not be seeing any magicians anytime soon. But I did find out something about your problem.

On the table fell folded in half a crumpled cardboard folder, taken by the detective from the inner pocket of his jacket.

Richard unfolded the folder and opened it curiously. Inside were pictures of a red-haired man and a strange house. It seemed to have been a brick farmhouse of some kind, and later wooden additions had been added to the sides and top. The house had grown several stories taller and looked as unstable as if it was held up solely by magic.

- This is the same Arthur Weasley," the detective began. - And this is his house, in Devon County, near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. There are several other wizarding houses there. All have muggle-repelling spells placed on them, as normal people don't notice these houses.

- Hmm... The original structure.

- It certainly is! - The detective agreed. - About the Weasleys. Father of seven, good family man. Housewife. Arthur earns two hundred and fifty galleons a month. He's into glamouring various technical devices. He has a garage full of junk from ordinary people, most likely confiscated. Sometimes takes bribes in kind or services, turning a blind eye to minor violations of wizards. All in all, an ordinary bloke with his own hobby, only a wizard. No mistress, he's never been involved in any dark deeds. Money in the family is not enough. I'll give you more details in the report.

- All right, Mr Potter, I'll look at your report. What about the bodyguard?

- I'm sorry, lad, but I'm on my own," the detective said. - 'I'll come round a bit and look into the matter. You in a hurry?

- I'd like to find the right wizard before summer.

- Until summer! - stretched out the detective. - We'll find him a hundred times over. Well, I have to go, Harry's waiting for me. Bye.

- Goodbye, Mr Potter.

After the detective left, Richard studied the data on Mr Weasley and his family for a while. It was clear to the boy that this wizard could be caught on a golden hook. A family man who loves his children and family would surely want the best for posterity.

The first thing Richard did was test the owl. He wrote a letter to Harry Potter, went up to the attic and tied it to Darth Vader's paw. Feeling like an idiot, Richie told the owl:

- Okay, Darth Vader, take the letter to Harry Potter. Wait for him to write back and bring it to me. Do you understand?

The titmouse grunted, shook its head, flapped its wings, and flew out the attic window.

- Let's see how the magicians' mail works," Ritchie muttered to himself.

Back in his office, young Grosvenor picked up the phone and dialled Dan Silver's number.

- Yes," the subordinate answered.

- Good afternoon, Mr Silver.

- Sir, it's good to hear from you. Pepsi's stock has been rallying ahead of its May earnings report to investors. Nokia's stock is still at a high level and I don't think it's worth investing in yet. Coca-Cola has paid its latest advertising payment. Walmart promises to pay off the scrappers in full by the end of May.

- Mr Silver, thank you for the information, but I'm calling on a slightly different matter. Contact the Grosvenor Group's land department and ask them if they have any land on their books in Scotland near the unprofitable land the firm disposed of in February. Do it now and let me know straight away.- Erm... Very good, sir.

Richard didn't have to wait long. Half an hour later, the phone rang. Mr Silver began his report immediately:

- Mr Richard, I've found out the information you requested. Yes, the Grosvenor Group has two other parcels of land in the neighbourhood. The first is irregularly shaped at fifty acres and the second is rectangular at one hundred and thirty-five acres.

- That's great. Thank you, Mr Silver. We're done for now. Keep monitoring the stock market. Put the proceeds from Coca-Cola and Walmart and any spare cash you have into Altria Group Tobacco. Their stock is currently down to a price of three dollars and four cents. I predict they'll rise ten per cent, or twenty per cent if you're lucky. Don't delay, because May is coming, and the stock will only go up.

- Understood, sir. Altria Group. I got it. I'll call my broker right away and put in an order to buy their stock. Anything else?

- No, Mr Silver. Have a good day.

Pressing the disconnect button, Richard dialled the telephone number of his father's hunting club.

- 'Grosvenor Hunting Club,' a calm male voice answered.

- Good afternoon, sir. This is Richard Grosvenor. Would you please put Gerald Grosvenor on the phone?

- Just a moment, Lord.

For twenty seconds Richard listened to the silence in the receiver. There was a rustling sound, followed by the voice of the boy's father:

- 'Richie, has something happened?

- Nothing, Dad. I need fifty acres of land next door to the one we sublet to the Minister of you-know-what.

- What do you want the land for, son?

- To bribe the right man who holds a serious position in that very ministry. It's necessary for my personal business. I've found out that the Grosvenor Group has the land. Can you get it transferred to me?

- All right, but you'll have to pay market value for the land. Four hundred and seventy pounds an acre, if I'm not mistaken.

- No problem. You invoice me, I'll order payment to the bank. Dad, one more thing, hold on to the third plot in the same area. I might build something for myself there, a house or set up a business. It'll be handy if I have to work with unusual people.

- Richie, what's the second parcel again?

- One hundred and thirty-five acres.

- Oh, I remember that one. There's a small lake on the edge of that lot, so it's worth 30 per cent more. Anyway, Richie, I'll give you a discount. I'll sell both plots for £100,000.

- A hundred grand? That's practically all I have left.

Richard was lying. He's actually got three times that amount in his account.

- Anyway, I need the land," he continued after a sad sigh. - Thanks, Dad! You're the best!

- Ho-ho! Richie, you should have bargained. That's how you get screwed by any crook.

- If I can't trust my own father, how can I go on? Dad, I believe you. If you said these lots are worth that much, they are.

- All right, all right," Gerald grumbled. - Do you have anything left in your account for sweets?

- Not much. Maybe a couple of pennies. I'll be stealing sweets from the kitchen," Richard sighed loudly and sadly.

Gerald laughed loudly from the speaker of the phone.

- Poor kid," he said pretentiously. - A childhood without sweets... I hope you won't report your father to the child welfare authorities for abuse?

- I'll think about it," Richard grinned. - Thanks again, Dad. Have a good holiday.

Richard was pleased. So far, things were going well and without a hitch.

By evening, Darth Vader returned with a letter from Harry Potter. In the letter, Harry wrote that he had gone to a new school and an owl had flown in during recess, causing a bit of a commotion. He asked not to send any more letters during the day on weekdays. The future hero wrote a couple of lines about the school, from which it could be concluded that he was well received there.

The main thing was not the correspondence, but the test of the postal bird. The experiment showed that owls can actually carry mail. In doing so, somehow they can find the right addressee, rather than like carrier pigeons that fly to the one place they have been trained to go.

By Wednesday the deeds to the land were drawn up. Richard set about drafting the letter. He pondered over the wording for a long time: how to write to an adult wizard, who holds a decent position in the Ministry of Magic, to get him to agree to meet an unknown wizard in the world of ordinary people? In the end, it was decided to compose an approximation of a business letter.

Taking an electronic typewriter from the shelf, Richard inserted a sheet of stamped paper into it and began typing.

Mr Arthur Weasley.

County of Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole.

Dear Mr Weasley, you are greeted by Lord Richard Grosvenor.

I apologise for our lack of introduction. You, as an expert in the field of enchanting the household items of ordinary people, were recommended to me by my esteemed wizardess, Madame Marchbanks.

I have the honour to invite you to a business dinner at my home this Friday at 19:00 hours. I expect you at 69 Grosvenor Street, London. Dress code is casual.

The meeting will be informal and I hope the outcome will be extremely favourable to both of us. I dare not trust paper to do more than that.

Count Grosvenor

It sounded formal, but at the same time, it sounded like a "no refusal" kind of thing. After all, it's the Lord inviting you to a meeting. And the letter doesn't have any loopholes for refusal. It doesn't say "if you want to come" or "if you agree, send me a reply". No such thing! When the Lord "politely asks", it is practically the same as an order to come to dinner, otherwise the invitee risks offending a powerful man by failing to show up without a valid reason. Not only that, there is intrigue in the letter, saying that I cannot write why I am inviting you, because it is a secret. And secrets, as you know, fuels people's curiosity. And the added hint of earning money is a double whammy.

Richard had sent the letter with Darth Vader's help towards evening, so that Mr Weasley would be home by then. The boy had no doubt that the wizard would come to the meeting.

The house in London had been chosen because there was only one housekeeper who could be released for the duration of the negotiations. There was no telling how Mr Weasley would behave. Maybe he would discuss Muggles and magic.

The only thing left to do was to invite Detective Potter to the meeting, to be on duty nearby as a bodyguard, and to warn the driver. Naturally, the housekeeper should be instructed about the guest, the arrival at the house and the need to prepare dinner.

On Friday, Richard rescheduled his fencing practice for the morning. As early as noon he left for London.

There was not much time left for preparation. At the request of young Grosvenor, the driver-bodyguard bought several CCTV cameras, which he hastily installed on the ground floor of the house. He ran cables to the first floor and connected the CCTV to several televisions that had also been purchased to accompany the cameras.

Just half an hour before the guest arrived, Richard began instructing the men and housekeeper gathered in the living room.

- Madame Stein, set the table and you may retire to your room. My guest and I will serve ourselves.

- Yes, sir.

Jane immediately headed into the kitchen and began setting the table in the dining room.

- Mr Potter, Steve, - I have a business meeting with a... er... hypnotist. There's a slight fear that he'll try to influence me in some way, but that's just paranoia. But just to be on the safe side.

- Hypnotist, sir?

For once, Richie got the driver to say something. Until then, the boy had thought the bodyguard was mute.

- "Hypnotist," the detective confirmed in the boy's place. - I've seen one before," he touched the healed bruise.

- I'll keep a close eye on him, sir," the bodyguard said calmly.

- Since the meeting is confidential," Richard continued, "you will leave us alone. You will watch us from the first floor.

The video cameras were not equipped with microphones, so Richard didn't worry that the conversation would be overheard. Of course, there was still a small chance that someone could read lips. If it was Scott, no big deal. But if it's Steve, that's not good. But still, personal safety is more important than keeping the magic secret.

- John, please don't embarrass me! Try not to be so familiar today. I don't need your "Mr Richie." Just address me in the proper etiquette: "Lord Grosvenor. I need to demonstrate my status to my guest. You realise it's difficult for a young man of my age to do business because adults don't take children seriously.

- Of course, Lord," John bowed respectfully. - I understand, it's just like summer business meetings.

- Good. John, you meet the guest, escort him to the dining room, and then go up to the first floor. Is that clear, gentlemen?

- Yes, Lord," John answered for everyone.

The detective and the driver nodded to indicate that they were clear.

- In that case, everyone to their places," Richard commanded. - We have only twenty minutes left.

The bodyguard and the detective went up to the first floor. At Jane's beckoning, the men had a tray of tea and a variety of food, so they would not be bored.

Richard went to the nearest mirror and checked that he looked perfect. Taking out a comb, the boy combed his hair. Then he adjusted the sleeves of his snow-white shirt and lightly twisted the platinum cufflinks with huge rubies, then adjusted his tie more evenly. Pulling back the hem of his jacket from his new, tailored suit, Richard made sure he looked perfect and very expensive. The ruby tie clip and cufflinks alone cost a hundred thousand pounds. Another couple of thousand for a three-piece suit of the finest material.

As soon as Richard was satisfied that his appearance was perfect, there was a knock at the door. And this despite the fact that there was a bell.

The boy immediately realised that it was a wizard. As far as he had learnt, wizards didn't use electricity, and there were a lot of habits, one of which was that wizards usually knocked on the door rather than ringing the doorbell.

John went to open the door, and Richard stood by the dining table, which was bursting with various viands.

An unfamiliar male voice came from down the hall:

- Hmmm... I'm that, to see the Lord.

- Greetings, sir," John replied primly. - 'Allow me your cloak... Please follow me.

In life Arthur Weasley looked like a thin, tall man with bald spots, red hair and blue eyes. He was dressed rather poorly: a shabby grey woollen suit and a washed white black checked shirt. He looked good-natured and slightly surprised, but only until John spoke:

- Lord Richard Grosvenor, Mr Arthur Weasley to see you.

- Mr Weasley," Richard bowed his chin slightly. - 'It's a pleasure to welcome you. Make yourself at home. Please, have a seat.

Mr Weasley looked thunderstruck. He stared at Richard in amazement, unable to believe that he was the Lord he had received the letter from. Yet there was so much strength, authority and conviction in what he was saying and how he was saying it that his feet carried Mr Weasley to the chair in question.

Arthur turned back and found the servant gone, as if he had vanished like a house elf. Mr Weasley even thought for a moment that this was a new breed of house elf, but immediately dismissed the thought.

- Mr Weasley, don't let my age put you off. I've been in big business for a long time, so I'm well aware of how adults react to who they have to work with. Believe me, this is not a game. This is serious.

- А? - Weasley waggled his head in confusion. - Sorry.

Richard took a seat across from his guest and set an example for him, setting himself a salad and taking a steak.

- Jane's steak was a success tonight. Don't miss the chance to try it or the marbled beef will be wasted.

Mr Weasley was feeling insecure. He could see that the boy was dressed expensively, making him self-conscious of his old tattered suit. Overcoming his shyness, he put a steak on his plate and tasted a piece of meat.

- Oh, Merlin! - he exclaimed. - It's delicious! Are you sure it's beef? I've heard that only the Dromarog has meat this tender, but the price is exorbitant.

- No, sir, it's definitely not dromarog. Marble beef is prepared in a very special way. First of all, it starts with selecting special breeds of cows that are not too fatty. Then they are fed with selected fodder with a sedentary lifestyle. After they grow up, the steers are suspended in the air in soundproof stalls so that they move as little as possible and their meat is tender. In a standing or hanging position, the muscles are in tension and the fat layers are distributed evenly over the flesh. That's how you get that wonderful meat.

- How horrible! - Mr Weasley rounded his eyes as he continued to eat his steak with pleasure. - The things Muggles come up with!

- The human imagination is multifaceted and inexhaustible... It's lovely weather today.

- Yes... Er, Lord, excuse me, may I ask why you invited me?

Richard kept his cool, and despite Mr Weasley's desire to get to the point more quickly, he was in no hurry to spill all the information.

- 'Madam Marchbanks mentioned that you are fond of glamourising the devices of ordinary people. A worthy hobby for a wizard.

Mr Weasley pouted. It was the first time he had heard praise for his hobby. Usually wizards were dismissive of such things.

- 'Yes,' he said proudly. - I actually enjoy experimenting with spells on Muggle devices.

- I've even heard rumours that you've managed to create a flying car.

- Oh, yes, my pride," the wizard got into his usual stride, which made him loosen up a little. - I enchanted a Muggle car. It can fly and become invisible. I've also cast an Invisible Expansion spell on the interior. I can fit my whole family in the Fordick.

- Amazing! - Richard admired it without pretence. - You have a large family, Mr Weasley. A wife and seven children. It's worthy of respect. It's rare to find a family like that these days.

Mr Weasley's lips spread into an involuntary smile.

- Oh, yes! My youngest daughter, Ginny, will be nine this year, and Ron will be going to Hogwarts in a year. My eldest, Bill, works at Gringotts as a curse breaker. Charlie is graduating this year and is going to be a dragonologist.

- What a coincidence! I'm going to Hogwarts in a year. You have very worthy children, Mr Weasley. But it must be hard to provide for such a large family.

- We're not complaining," Arthur frowned slightly. - We're a close-knit family, though.

- I'm not judging anyone in any way. But you want the best for your children. Don't you?

- Of course I do," Arthur agreed.

- Being a good father, you'd like to provide your children with their own place, to give them the best, wouldn't you?- I wish I could... But I'm sure they'll do it all on their own.

- No doubt your children are good examples, and they will do well, but... Mr Weasley, if you had the chance to give each of your children a plot of land, to build them houses, would you do it?

- Without a doubt," Arthur nodded.

With a magician's gesture, Richard pulled out a leather folder, opened it, took out a photograph of the picturesque area and handed it to his guest.

- What do you think of the view?

- Beautiful meadow.

- Fifty acres of beautiful land. Importantly, it neighbours a new magical settlement in Scotland. The Ministry of Magic recently built two dozen houses there, housing young wizarding families. It's not a bad neighbourhood.

- Yes, I agree. Where are you going with this, Lord?

- This land is yours, Mr Weasley. At a favourable rental rate. Or rather, it can be yours if you just sign here," a contract was placed on the table with Arthur Weasley's name already inscribed on it. - Ten galleons per hectare, rent to the Weasley family for fifty years without the right to sublet, with the exclusive right to extend the lease. You could divide it into seven parts of seven acres, build decent houses for your children, gardens. A wonderful investment for the future.

- But that's-- That's two hundred gallons a year in rent! I'm afraid I can't afford to spend that.

- You are mistaken, Mr Weasley. Of course you can afford to spend more than that. You'll have enough to build a home for your children and a life of ease. All you have to do is turn a hobby into a living!

- Excuse me?! - Arthur was surprised and puzzled.

- Suppose you could enchant another car to fly and be invisible?

- Of course.

- I will give you the car and pay you ten thousand gallions for its enchantment.

The wizard's eyes went wide at the sum.

- Ten thousand?! - he said with a gasp.

- Yes, sir. You will be satisfied with such payment, won't you? It's not too little?

- No, no, no, it's too much! I can't take that much money. Well, five hundred galleons.

Richard grinned good-naturedly.

- 'Sir, this is the first time I've ever heard of haggling backwards. Mr Weasley, you must agree, any labour requires payment. Doesn't it?

- Well... Yes," Arthur nodded in agreement.

- Exclusive work requires a proper remuneration. So can you glamour my car for me?

- Yes, I can.

- So, I hope we have agreed that you will not insult me by devaluing your labour and will take ten thousand galleons as payment for the work.

- Very well! - Arthur agreed cheerfully, letting himself be persuaded. - I will then enchant you the finest flying car in the world!

- That is exactly what I expect of you, sir.

- But... - suddenly the wizard became alarmed. - But enchanted Muggle inventions cannot be used....

- That's not what I've heard. You can't use them illegally, but you can use them for yourself, as long as ordinary people don't find out about it. Isn't that right?

- That's right.

- In that case, I don't see a problem.

- No problem at all," Arthur agreed. - Excuse me.

- Besides," Richard winked at Mr Weasley, "I have a supervisor at the Ministry of Magic who deals with the illegal use of enchanted objects. And suppose something unforeseen were to happen, wouldn't he help the young Lord in a friendly way? I don't intend to abuse such an acquaintance by any means, but things happen in life.

Arthur was torn with contradictions. He was an honest and responsible man. But when you're offered so much, lured like Satan to the righteous, it's impossible to resist. There's land in a prestigious place, and money to build houses for the family bloodlines.

- Of course, Lord," Arthur said. - How could I leave a good man without help?

- You are a wonderful man, Mr Weasley. Tell me, can you only glamour a car, or are your talents much wider than that?

- What are you interested in? - Arthur asked curiously. - I can glamour many things.

- Here, take a look at this.

Richard laid out a stack of comic books in front of the man and began showing him various supervillain and superhero gimmicks, explaining what they were and how they were supposed to work.

Mr Weasley studied the comics with inexpressible enthusiasm. His eyes lit up with excitement at the sight of the drawn devices.

- It's unbelievable! - exclaimed the man. - Did Muggles really make so many interesting things?

- Not really, Mr Weasley. These are just prototypes that will appear in the future. I want all these things now.

- Eh..." Mr Weasley sighed with incredible sadness. - 'It's a pity... A great pity, but I'm afraid I don't have the knowledge to glamour such things. Except for some of them, like the flying steel wing. Besides, I don't have much time because of work.

- Please don't be so quick to refuse. Mr Weasley, I had anticipated something like this, so I've thought of a way out. I'll give you targeted grants to develop various artefacts. Solid grants that will include the cost of supplies, payment for any assistants you hire, and your remuneration.

- Assistants?

- That's right, sir. Ten assistants will be enough to enchant these devices for a year?

- Five wizards could do the job!

- So you'll hire ten talented wizards at a salary of 300 galleons a month.

- Three hundred?! That's more than the salary of the head of a small department in the Ministry!

- Sir, talented wizards! Talent shouldn't starve, it should be a joy to work with. For example, when you were young, would you have agreed to do what you love for that kind of money instead of working at the Ministry?

- I would! No doubt about it!

- Then other wizards will find such an offer favourable. Are we agreed on assistants?

- All right, then.

Arthur was confused. Too much on his plate in a short space of time.

- Excuse me, Lord, but what about my job at the Ministry?

- What's wrong with it, Mr Weasley? You will continue to work quietly, and in your spare time you will give tasks to your subordinates, explain unclear points to them, and control the quality of the work you do. If you do it properly, it won't take long. Previously, you used to do your hobby alone and spend money on it, and now you will do it in the company of people and earn money at the same time.

- If you think about it, you can do that," said Arthur. - But what about the fact that, frankly, I don't know much about Muggle devices myself?

- That's not a problem, Mr Weasley. I will find experts among the common people who will explain to you and your men the supposed structure of the artefact devices being created. In anticipation of your outrage at the breach of the statute of secrecy, there will be none. These people will be told that you represent a secret research group, which is engaged in the development of the latest technologies. The specialists will be piously confident of this, so there's no danger. Unless, of course, you do magic in front of them.

- It's a way out... but...

Arthur Weasley stared at the contract, pretending to scrutinise the text. In fact, he was so deeply in thought that he had completely cut himself off from the world. The wizard sat like that for about ten minutes, then shook his head. A look of determination came over his face. He took a fountain pen from the table and signed his name.

- Good decision," Richard smiled dazzlingly. - You made the right choice, Mr Weasley, and you won't regret it one bit. Here are the deeds to the land, and this is the contract of co-operation.

The boy transferred the papers from the folder to the table in front of his guest. With a clink of coins, he placed a pouch on top.

- And this is a modest deposit, so your family won't need anything.

- Money? How much is it?

Mr Weasley untied the pouch and stared at the shiny gold galleons.

- Two hundred galleons. It's a deposit so your family won't be poor. We're not going to start work straight away. Firstly, you need premises. Secondly, you'll need time to recruit staff. Thirdly, I can't just take money out of circulation. Almost all of my funds are invested. I'll have the money in the projects by mid-June. The building will be completed by then.

- A building? - Arthur said confused.

- You weren't planning to house a dozen wizards in your garage, were you? - Richard asked with a smile.

Mr Weasley looked embarrassed and muttered:

- Actually, that's what I thought. Already starting to make excuses for Molly. It's my spouse. I can imagine how angry she'd be about a bunch of muggles in the backyard!

Richard could hardly contain his laughter.

- Mr Weasley, you won't have to make such sacrifices. Do you have any requests for the structure?

- A garage would be nice.

Richard laid a blank sheet of paper on top of the folder and wrote down:

A spacious garage.

- Anything else?

Mr Weasley began to think hard. After a while he began to list, and Richard continued to add to the list.

- There should be a potions room, it would be good to add an alchemy lab," Arthur grew bolder with each phrase. His dream of a perfect place for creativity in the company of wizards like him was coming true. - There should also be a warehouse for various materials.

Richard added on his own behalf:

- A lounge, a kitchen, a reception area and a few offices. Is that enough or do you need more?

- It's enough.

Mr Weasley nodded, then put a sprawling signature on a contract to create magical artefacts for Richard Grosvenor. Under this contract, all rights to the inventions belonged to Richard, and Arthur's group must provide a complete description of the creation of the artefact, by which any other wizard would be able to replicate the procedure and make a complete copy.

- Congratulations on the beginning of a long and productive co-operation," Richard gave the wizard a dazzling smile.

- Thank you, - replied the dumbfounded magician.

- Now about the co-operation. By the middle of June you should find and hire mages as assistants. Keep in touch with me through the owl or call me on the phone.

Richard handed Mr Weasley his business card. The wizard twirled it in his hands in bewilderment.

- And these are...

- These numbers, Mr Weasley, are the phone number you'll need to dial on the phone to speak to me. If it's easier for you, send an owl.

- I will.

- Also. I'd like to see a prototype flying car.

- Of course, of course! - Arthur smiled happily. - Lord, would it be convenient for you to join us for dinner this weekend?

- Unfortunately, my weekends and yours do not coincide. I have Monday and Friday free.

- In that case, if it's convenient for you, I'll see you for dinner next Friday.

- Excellent. See you then, Mr Weasley. I'll definitely be there. Can you be more specific about the time, please?

- Also at seven o'clock in the evening," the wizard said.

Normally Arthur Weasley was more confident, but now he was dumbfounded by the prospect, and even more so by the personality of his benefactor. He thought:

"Who would have guessed that a little child would turn out to be someone who would appreciate the labours of my life? You can tell he's a real Lord, not like that upstart Lucius!"